


Slapping & Handling Included

by dream56



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bromance, Dirty Talk, Fantasy, M/M, Object Penetration, Scent Kink, Sex Toys, Sweat, ball-slapping action, ironic no homo intensifies, musk, two horny roommates too dumb to admit their feelings so they take it out on toys instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dream56/pseuds/dream56
Summary: Local pervs John and Takashi get their long-awaited package in the mail. As sex toy connoisseurs, they'll just have to give it a proper test-run, won't they?
Relationships: John/Takashi
Kudos: 3





	Slapping & Handling Included

Takashi shut the apartment door behind him, breathless. He spread his fingers against the wood, his other arm clutching a long rectangular box to his chest. It had been some time since he'd been asked to work overtime and the long, dark walk back from the castle gave him plenty of time to adjust to the darkness in the apartment, a long blue-black cloud permeated only by the creamy yellow light down the corridor. He already knew the source of that and swallowed decisively, stepping away from the threshold.

“Takashi?” he heard John call.

“Yeah,” he answered, halfway along the passageway.

“D'you get it?” John said.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Takashi said, a touch stiff. He'd wanted to be the first to try it or at the very least to surprise John with an only slightly opened box. He emerged into the golden glow of the lamp and squinted. John enjoyed the glare off Takashi's glasses, the effect making him seem peculiarly calculating and antagonistic, like some villain in a hentai they'd watched once.

“Bring it over,” John said, patting the couch, sweeping away some crumbs.

Takashi, already hopping out of most of his guard's uniform, took two or three pants-encumbered steps toward the sofa before freeing himself from his clothes. He slouched down, undershirt, underwear, cardboard package, and all. John stroked the side of Takashi's package, lovingly reading the label.

“ _The newest model,_ ” Takashi said, excitement getting the better of him.

“Open it!” John had both hands on the box already as he said it and Takashi worked the flap expertly, no stranger to long-distance packages. In between a few furtive glances and grabby unwrapping, an unusually shaped cylindrical object fell onto the couch between them.

“There it is,” Takashi said with reverence. 

“Brand spanking new from Slime Co., the _Sack Attack_...” John lifted the toy, fingers grazing the Slime Co. logo, tracing the letters. 

“Eh?” Takashi said. He retrieved the small advertising card which had also fallen from the box and threatened to disappear between the sofa cushions. “ _Say yes to the testicle tantalizing Sack Attack_ ,” he read, _“the newest in Slime Co. innovation. Our flagship sex sleeve has been upgraded with the finest pair of beautiful balls to be found on this or any continent. Sourced from a battery of competitive candidates, all possessing a superior sack in their own right, we narrowed down our list of nuts until our researchers isolated their most pleasing qualities. What resulted was a synthesis of sexual energy, a virile symbol of masculinity that will have you humping away with renewed abandon. Let your balls indulge in the best slapping experience while our balls do the work. Yours, Slime Co.”_

John, who was already unscrewing the cap, gave a gasp when, as he opened the capsule, a huge, heavy pair of synthetic nuts swung down, coming to rest just below the tight pink orifice. He hefted the sack in his palm, eyebrows registering his surprise that the balls were as heavy if not heavier than even Takashi's. Yet, as he squeezed them, visualizing his own sack smacking away, his nuts low-five-ing these, they were comprised only of the softest flesh analogue.

Takashi looked up and his eyes widened. “Oh wow...”

“We fuck this thing now, yeah?” John was reaching for the waistband of his boxers.

“I mean, we _could_...I guess I might have misread the...the uh, listing...I was expecting pussy.” He furrowed, trying to think back to his order form.

“This not enough to get you off, man?” John put the balls to his lips and sucked on them. 

Takashi crossed his legs. “I mean, a hole is a hole but I don't wanna...I'm not sure how I'd feel about having that big fat pair of nuts springing back when I'm going at it...might make me think about...uh...you know, un...” Takashi had been about to say “unmanly things” but John, having sucked one nut into his mouth, released it and it swung down, sparkling with spit.

“What's manlier than asserting your dominance, dude?” John cajoled, his cock hardening at the creeping blush on Takashi's face. He could feel his body heating up already, knew Takashi's would be burning up also. “Just imagining how powerful it'll make you feel to pin some cute thing down and really mess up that hole, screw up their insides, and leave your load as an afterthought, a big creamy, overflowing afterthought...”

“You're saying the balls aren't an issue?” In truth, Takashi was more worried about having potentially bungled a purchase and John being mad than about the toy itself.

“Nah, _think about it_ , the balls let you know what a good job you're doing. If you're not slapping, are you really giving that hole the fucking it deserves? That _you_ deserve to be getting?” John licked up the side of one of the pink testicles, the edge of a smile already enough. 

“Y-you have a point,” Takashi conceded, cock painfully hard in his sweat-soaked work shorts. The air was getting thicker with his melty musk and the sudden increase in his body heat brought the aroma out even more fully. John wouldn't have minded trading out the balls in his mouth for Takashi's, but he knew that might have to wait.

“So what do we think about--” John began.

“Dibs,” Takashi said.

“Jerk,” John said playfully, tossing the toy over to his friend and partner in crime.

“I intend to,” Takashi said, smile barely obscuring an alarming self-possession. He was already readying himself, readjusting his dick in his shorts. “I guess I have to be on my knees for the full effect, huh?”

“Don't mind me. I'll just see how good a job you do,” John said, sweeping one foot onto the couch while he kept the other on the floor, airing his crotch, already pinching at the fabric.

Takashi abandoned his seat and got onto his knees, facing the sofa. He stripped out of the shirt and tugged his boxers down his thighs while he worked up a good mouthful of saliva. He centered the toy case against the surface of the cushion, far enough toward him that the balls had plenty of room to move, far enough on the couch he could guarantee stability. He'd had practice. He lined up his cock and let a thick dribble of spit river down from his pursed lips. He worked the fluid over his fat cock, the full shaft getting a warm slimy rubdown, before inserting his slick fingers into the hole. It parted for him easily, but he could sense the tensile memory of the material and knew how it would form-fit his fuck-ready cock. He swiveled his hand around, smearing spit around the entrance, feeling urgency, knowing the spit would be drying on his dick already, air around it getting cooler.

He led his hips forward, his cock head kissing the threshold, too dry at first. He let another stream of saliva work down, bubbly and white, to join a drop of pre-cum as sufficient lube. Thus prepared, he pushed forward again, no need for adjusting this time, dick plunging in, further, reaching a dry patch, spending its saliva coating allowing him further purchase, finally nearing the end, but not quite, his dick nearly flush but not quite, and his balls pressing against the toy's.

He didn't know what to think of the sensation at first. The toy's testicles were soft but weighted, enough to feel you were definitely pushing something that would push back. He pulled back, aware the excess spit slopping his balls made the movement more deliberate, the balls releasing from his own rather than staying stationary. One further torrent of spit finished the job and he was thrusting.

Usually one to go slow, to test the waters, to try out each nub and nodule, each fanning texture, each reversed slippery slope, he could feel John's eyes on him, on his cock, on the motions he made, knew how badly John wanted to be in his place, and knew how badly he wanted to impress his friend, however stupid the thought sounded when he allowed it space in his mind. He was going to fuck this toy for himself, stretch it out, make it ready for John...no, leave what was  _left_ for John. The thought filled him with a surge of lust and he speed forward, the lunge reciprocating in the pendulum pivot of the synthetic sack which bounced back against his own. It was then he got it.

He understood how powerful it made him feel, how in the moment it was to claim this hole as his, to dole out its fleshy delights at his leisure, to choose what wild whim he'd wield against its tight embrace, how cute it'd look gushing his ample slurpable semen, that overwhelming male scent lurking ever after, the result of his musky cum imprinting the toy as his property, or perhaps, his and John's. He thrust harder, eyes glazed, glasses fogging, balls plapping against the toy with reckless raunchy rubbing, percussive, perfect.

John was leaning back, legs spread, enjoying the show. It had been a while since he'd seen Takashi so worked up. Last week, in fact. And that was far too long for a horn-dog like himself to go without teasing, tempting his friend and fuck-buddy into a far-gone amorous state for him to enjoy, luxuriate in, observe, lazily tugging at his very erect dick. The harder Takashi's nuts contacted the toy's, the harder John's heart beat, the sound ringing in his head, the thick haze of Takashi's aroma, his fuck-forward fragrance entering his nose, filling up his every desire with an ever more potent will to cum, to spread his semen far and wide across Takashi's body and every hole Takashi ever filled himself. He was on fire. He dug his toes into the couch and the carpet, waiting his turn impatiently.

As if by psychic pressure, Takashi felt every flick of John's eyelids, at once half-lidded in trance, and then again, alert, intense. And he sped on, his galloping gait barely enough it seemed for the gulping toy, louder longer more resistant squelches trying harder, heavier to hold onto his hard on. He was being sucked like nothing had ever swallowed him down before and his balls were ready to contribute their share to the toy's, his thoughts imagining those obese orbs swelling with his semen, absorbing it all and the toy establishing its thrall, bidding him sacrifice more, yet more seed to its endlessly thirsty stores, its ravenous sack, demanding deluges of dick milk, destined to own his cock. He gave one big thrust, balls smacking into the well-slapped pair, then gave up his load.

A long hot day in the guard office, the swelter of the day seeping in, staining his uniform with deep pockets of rank sweat, the kind he knew John would bury his nose in when he wasn't in the room, the kind he thought his friend might even lick off his body if he slept without showering, these conditions coaxed his balls to fill full, flush with delicious cum. All this he unloaded into the toy, his testicles tensing, drawing up as they drained, the toy taking its meal well, the suction abating as his well-bated shaft stopped jerking, the spit replaced with pre-cum then with a tongue's burden of boy jizz.

He sank back more than pulled out, falling back on his heels, bare butt sweaty, almost as slick as his cum-sloppy balls where rivulets of seed had escaped the orifice. He gave one long big breath to quell the many small hot ones, chest heaving, the toy now innocent and filled, sated, its hefty, heavenly pair of soft balls dripping with donated cum.

“Good?” John asked, bemused. He'd pulled his cock through the hole in his boxers and his dick was already wet with pre-cum. He pre-came far more than Takashi and the number of nights he'd left his shorts slick with a layer of it as he jerked himself to sleep outnumbered the figurines the pair had stashed around their apartment.

“ _Y-yeah_ ,” Takashi managed. He slumped back further, arms shaky. He pointed after a second. “You next.”

John retrieved the toy from its wet resting place, lifting it and smiling at the damp patch on the sofa. “Did a number on it this time, Takashi,” he said, easing himself to the floor next to his friend.

Takashi watched with interest as John positioned the toy at an angle, entrance pointing upwards. Already on his knees, he stretched forward, mounting the sleeve. He needed very little lubing assistance to slide right in, his wet cock helped along by the more than needed erotic essence his best friend had left for him. He slid in, relishing the sloppy, hot interior, the grooves and gutter-butter ridges feeling, he knew, entirely different cum-slick than they'd be clean. He shot a grin at his interested roommate.

“Think I was gonna fuck it right-side up? I'd have your load drowning my dick.” John continued slowly inching in, cock exploring, excavating the cum flooded tunnel.

“Wouldn't look bad...” Takashi said, wishing immediately after he hadn't.

“Wouldn't, eh? I remember the last time I did that with that toy molded after that pop star's mouth...what a sucker he's got on him, but doesn't compare to having your jizz squirting from between his lips...if he snowballed my cock maybe we'd be talking...” As he teased, he reached the end, his cock in all the way to the base and his balls touching the toy's. He could already tell he was gonna love the feeling of them and knew from this angle he'd be pressing them, not working against their usual balance. He wanted the feeling of slamming his hips forward and having those balls submit, squeezing beneath his manly pair. 

Takashi watched John slide in and out, stretching out his body, tightening his stomach so he could straighten up and fuck athletically, before inevitably slouching back down, shoulders hunched, back curved over the hole his cock was invading. Takashi tried to imagine how it would look with some lickable cutie bent underneath his friend, hips up, head held down into the mattress, eyes rolled back with pure ecstasy as his partner pumped away, filling that lucky gut with a glut of rich semen. The thought passed his mind of how decadent it would be to take John's place, to have John under him, the thought replaced with an only mildly less alarming image of his sidling up behind John right then and sliding his still drenched dick between John's tight cheeks and ramming away, his every thrust echoing into John's own progress with the artificial orifice. He stroked his schlong openly, the semen stuck to it lube enough, the cum working itself whiter as he beat off.

John had gotten a groove going, was beginning a pace that filled the room with wet slapping, felt his chest fill with pride as he got it consistent, as he bounced his belly up and pistoned his penis forward, flush with the fleshy tunnel, back near the head, in again, out again, his cock head swooping forward to dabble in the dribble of Takashi's collected pool of dense milk, sweeping back to allow his hung nuts hang-time, space to angle back and then, guided by inertia, pierce the sweaty silence with another slap.

He was learning each tactile trick the toy had to offer, was learning it each time his cock reacquainted itself, each time his dick head helped itself to those sensations, his brain swimming with beautiful colors, each a separate amorphous shape, and each a different selection of Takashi's scent, this a rosy lush bloom of Takashi's after-work pits, that a jeweled amber rising up from his friend's unwashed morning wood, this one a burnished magenta drawling up as thick cords of smoke, each nose-rubbing rope surely the unmistakable tang of Takashi's musky sack, and there in brightly shining mahogany was the ever-present lingering flavor of Takashi's cum, entering John's senses as much through his nose as his mouth, the snuck and savored remainder in Takashi's tossed condoms, the loose slurry leftover in their jointly devastated toys, even the rare droplet or rarer load that landed on his leg, arm, or once even his face, when they circlejerked, an accidental arc sailing from his friend's dick, those accidents not needing tissue for clean up. All these materialized the pleasure his penis was experiencing as familiar, just as this toy was now familiar with both his and Takashi's wangs, had tasted them both and knew their secrets, knew intimately what both had to hide and what both had surrendered in lusty truth as they gave up fluids.

Takashi kept jacking his long, spent dick, revived energy coursing through his legs, toes half-curled to keep from cumming a second time. He watched John jet ahead, his body a lithe bolt of fire, dancing closer to finishing. He knew it wouldn't be long, couldn't be, knowing that time felt so much slower for him, but that a toy like that never let anyone hold out long, convincing them try again to better their average. Off that, Slime Co. had built their brand.

Takashi's appraisal was accurate and John was losing what control he had, his cock reaching dangerously deep, those folds interspersed the course of the tube expertly placed and performing their role in roiling the young man's every instinct, his very coital core. John was having trouble holding the tube upright and, glancing over at Takashi, met his eyes. Takashi, understanding, abandoned his own jerking and scurried over on all fours, gripping the toy with both hands, one dry enough but for palm sweat, the other coated in jerk-whipped cum. This support was enough for John to finish as his feet slipped and he stumbled forward, cock planting itself fully in the welcoming hole, his sack presenting its compliments.

John lay there, cock engulfed in the friction-built heat of the sleeve, body limp and malleable as gold, glitter sugaring his vision with sex-spent sparkles. He didn't even need to move as his balls pumped their considerable weight, tense and emptying, spurting jolts of jizz to join Takashi's at the back end of the case. He continued cumming, longer even than Takashi did. John made more pre-cum  _and_ more cum, even if he knew Takashi's loads were more potent, their scent enough to stick to clothes for days, filling their apartment with heady, heavenly manly miasma.

Takashi nudged his friend after a minute and John rolled off the toy, his softening cock slipping out, the toy no worse for wear, a clear model of Slime Co. quality and durability. With the demands the citizens of Monstralia made of their toys, two horny human boys wouldn't leave a scratch. The two boys in question stretched out on their apartment floor, breathing heavily, then slower, until they reached regular breath, their body heat too normalizing until, in contrast, the room felt almost chilly. Takashi reached over for his boxers and clumsily managed to the jimmy them up his legs. John, lying on his stomach, opted to remain nude.

“What'd'ya think?” Takashi asked, voice quiet, restrained, but curious.

“Their best yet,” John said, decidedly.

“I thought so too, but only barely. That fish lips sleeve was a close second.”

“You _would_ say that,” John snorted. “You're soft on those amphibian monster girls. The kind with thick thighs you wanna put that dick between and hump til the water around you is cloudy.”

“Hey, _you'd_ probably pick some inferior sleeve for aesthetics instead of performance, like that slime-ass toy.”

“It _jiggled_ , man. You can't say no to an ass that _jiggles_ ,” John said dreamily.

Takashi sighed happily, looking at the case and the lurking pond of cum that no doubt lay inside. “I can't wait for my time off next month...that trip to the Slime Co. factory and testing facilities is going to be...”

“A dream?” John suggested.

“More than that. Imagine, dude...all the toys we could ever want to test out...and we don't have to clean _any of them!_ ”

John chuckled. “Let's hope they don't put us in the wall or strap us in for test subjects. We're too good at this shit, man.”

“Would that be so bad?” Takashi asked.

“Nah...but then we might not get to fuck our favorites as often as we'd like.”

“Bet they'd have top of the line porn though.”

“Slime ass too.”

“Monster girl thighs, bro. Get your head in the right place.”

“If it were on your lap, it would be,” John snuffled sleepily, his mind not able to tell whether he'd said the words out loud or not. 

“H-ha...yeah, dude,” Takashi said. It was only after a light snore from John that he snuck over and positioned his legs under his friend's head. He lay back, lifting the toy, peering inside. He was lucky he dodged the blort of cum that launched toward his face. John, however, was not so lucky and the fat blap of semen spattered across his snoozing cute face. He didn't wake and Takashi smirked.

“It'd be what he'd want anyway,” he murmured, letting further plops of their combined loads drop onto John's chest. He rubbed an index finger absentmindedly through the strong smelling goop, circling John's nipple. Then he lay back, slumber resting on his senses almost as heavily as the stink of fresh cum.

**Author's Note:**

> John and Takashi belong to PervyPocket. You can find his art here: (https://twitter.com/pervypocket)
> 
> The Sack Attack is shamelessly based on the Fleshjack product, The Lovesack, now called the Fleshsack, an infinitely worse name.


End file.
